How his Rubber Ducky told the truth
by Indestructible
Summary: With Lucius as their mutual arch enemy, how will Harry react to having to go into hiding with Draco Malfoy? Slash HD. Rated M for future chapters.
1. Too Queer Vs All Bundy

**Title: How his Rubber Ducky told the truth.**

**By Indestructible.**

**Summary: With Lucius as their mutual arch-enemy, how will Harry react to having to go into hiding with Draco Malfoy? Slash H/D.**

**Warnings: Slash. Male/male relationships. Don't like, sod off.**

**Disclaimer: All credit for characters to JK Rowling, obviously.**

**This story is updated every 2 weeks, or more often.**

**Enjoy the very first chapter!**

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Chapter One - Too Queer Vs. All Bundy 

He crossed his legs. _Damn, all wrong, too damn queer._

He put them back on the hardboard floor, spread, and leaned back a little, one arm draped casually over the back of his armchair. _No, that's even worse, way too 'All Bundy'._

He shoved his legs together, crossing his arms in his lap. _Ugh, not working, I might as well stand up and start shouting "Don't touch my chastity belt!"._

He pulled his legs up, stretching them across one armrest while his back was against the other, his head leaning back, eyes looking at the ceiling, frown pushing down on his eyebrows. _No, no, no! What am I? A bloody emo? _

He sat up, back straight, legs straight, arms straight.

"That's right Harry, that most definitely is the best position for your back, or so I've read. But honestly, why in Merlin's name are you changing the way you sit every two seconds?" A familiar voice spoke up from Harry's side.

He slumped, leaving his correct posture behind, and looked around to find Hermione smiling at him from his left.

"No reason." He quickly defended himself, only to make him seem more suspicious.

"Sure, mate, very convincible." Ron snorted, showing up from behind Hermione to take a seat at his side. "But we won't ask, won't we, 'Mione?" He added, suggestively.

Hermione just huffed and sat at a table not too far away, supposedly reading a book while trying tolisten in on their conversation.

"So Harry, now that it's just us guys, you can just tell me what's going on right?" Ron said, in a not very subtle manner, while Harry threw an annoyed look at Hermione, who was holding her book upside down.

"No, Ron." He answered, "Because there **is** nothing going on!"

Harry had never been a very good liar, but since he was really putting in an effort, and Ron was... well... a complete dolt, Ron didn't push the matter.

He sighed and leant back, resisting the urge to inwardly criticize his sitting position again. He hated not being honest with his friends but there was no way around it, Harry had sworn secrecy to professor McGonnagal, now official headmistress of Hogwart's, and wasn't about to break his promiss. It was just hard keeping something to himself that was bothering him 24/7.

Okay, so what if he'd done that more often. And so what if he was hiding more than one secret from Hermione and Ron at the moment. That didn't mean that he wasn't struggling with it. _What was that saying again? A friend in need is a bird in the bush?_ Harry thought, lazily. _Anyway, what's wrong with keeping something to yourself right?_ At least he was planning to tell them later. That hadn't always been the case.

And so he sat there, Hermione still glaring at the both of them while holding her book upside down, Ron now averting his attention to picking his nose, and Harry silently soothing his conscience. Little did they all know what was hanging above their heads.

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**This was the first chapter to a possible series. If you feel the urge to review, don't let me stop you!**


	2. Of Hairproducts And ArmPit Epilation

**Title: How his Rubber Ducky told the truth.**

**By Indestructible.**

**Summary: With Lucius as their mutual arch-enemy, how will Harry react to having to go into hiding with Draco Malfoy? Slash H/D.**

**Warnings: Slash. Male/male relationships. Don't like, sod off.**

**Disclaimer: All credit for characters to JK Rowling, obviously.**

**This story is updated every 2 weeks, or more often.**

**Another chapter for you all! This one was innitially to determine the tone of the story. Have fun!**

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Chapter Two: Of Hairproducts And Arm-Pit Epilation 

Harry had moved on. Being honest with himself, he knew that it was pretty much as bad as before but at least it was a change in pattern. He wasn't judging his sitting positions anymore. No, sirree, he was now...

Judging his general appearance.

Gazing in the mirror Harry turned from side to side, studying his face, body, hair and boxers. Oh yes, he was getting many odd looks from Dean and Neville, while he stood there, half naked, flexing his muscles and ruffling his hair like a pigeon would with it's feathers. Besides that, Seamus Finnegan was oddly concentrated on watching Harry, drool dripping on the pillow he was resting his head on.

But Harry hadn't even noticed. He was now too busy with fussing around in the bathroom for some of Neville's hairproducts. Returning with a jar that contained a particularly shiny substance, Harry scooped some up and watch it jiggle in the palm of his hand for a moment or two. Smearing it sloppily, in an unexperienced way, into his unruly chestnut hair, Harry was as focussed as ever, concentrating on his hair as much as he would on the golden snitch.

That is... before he'd found something else to watch, not too long ago,whom was either sitting gracefully in the stands or riding his broomstick with suppleness and authority.

About two hours later, Harry was as ready as he'd ever be. Or at least that was what he was trying to convince himself of. He'd practised with the gel for a while and had finally managed to make his hair... even more unruly, but in a stylish sort of way.

About eight sets of new and fresh clothes lay neatly folded on the bed. A little too neatly. The only time that Harry could be neat was when he was extremely nervous, which didn't even come close to describing his mood right now.

Harry sighed, piling the clothes into a travel bag. By now, Dean and Neville had left, and even Seamus had eventually gotten bored with Harry girlishly assembling outfits. Shoving the bag under his bed, so that Ron wouldn't find it and start an inquiry about where he was planning to go, Harry silently contemplated wether to leave the gel in or wash it out to not make himself look more suspicious.

But the door opened, and in walked the descision to his problem. "Harry! What's all this rubbish Seamus is spilling about you fussing with your..." he paused, eyeing Harry with his eyebrows raised.

"Hair..."

"Oh shut up, Ron, or do I need to remind you of the time you spent epilating your armpit hair when you had a date with 'Lav-lav'" Ron turned red more rapidly then Lavender had when Hermione had let this particular information 'accidently' slip. Harry grinned and sat back on his bed waiting patiently for Ron to regain his speech-capabilities.

"Harsh, Harry, very harsh." Ron mumbled, his face still glowing. "But honestly Harry, what's happening to you? You've been acting like a girl on Valentine's day lately!"

Harry's smile faltered for a minute, but he soon regained composure, determined to keep his secret. "Consider doing the same Ron, your hair looks like you've just survived a hurricane."

"Nice try, Harry, now spill."Ron replied, yet his blush was mysteriously increasing again, and he quickly ran a hand through his red mop of hair.

"Would you shut up about it, and get your arse over here? Check out this stuff Neville uses!"

Harry let loose a sigh, happy that Ron finally gave up asking about his change of character lately, and so the two friends sat there, for the next half hour,unraveling themysteries of extra strong hair wax.

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**Reviews are very very very welcome! Thanks for reading!**


	3. Giggle Like A Girl

**Title: How his Rubber Ducky told the truth.**

**By Indestructible.**

**Summary: With Lucius as their mutual arch-enemy, how will Harry react to having to go into hiding with Draco Malfoy? Slash H/D.**

**Warnings: Slash. Male/male relationships. Don't like, sod off.**

**Disclaimer: All credit for characters to JK Rowling, obviously.**

**This story is updated every 2 weeks, or more often.**

**Chapter 3 is dedicated to my very first reviewer, fifespice! Thank you for sharing your opinion! This one's a bit of a teaser, hope you like it.**

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Chapter Three: Giggle Like A Girl

His feet kept intertwining, out of nervousness perhaps, making it very hard for Harry to run. And running was, right now, an absolute necessity, since he was already 15 minutes late for class.

Harry had been dreading this moment ever since he'd had that talk with McGonnagal, and the fact that he was now late because he had been working every single strand of hair into it's proper position hadn't lessen this feeling one bit.

Robes flaring behind him in a blur of black cloth, Harry was finally nearing the dungeon where his doom was to be met that day. Slowing down with a spectacular sliding, Harry grasped the heavy brass doorknob and swung open the door, bursting into the room with a slight 'drama queen' flair to him.

"Mister Potter, care to explain why you are late and panting like a dog?" Drawled Snape from behind his desk, while Harry leant on his knees to catch his breath.

But Harry, for once, wasn't even listening to Snape's ramble about having no respect for authority and not caring about important rules that kept the school together bla... bla.. bla...

No, Harry's eyes were scanning the students in the room, and stopped, abruptly, as one particular blonde came into view. He was looking right at Harry, smiling dangerously. Harry's deep emerald green eyes, met with his superficial cold grey ones, and immediately, Harry straightened up.

He had been so determined when he'd left McGonnagal's office, that with the prospect of the upcoming months, it was absolutely necessary to be perfect. At least according to a particular Slytherin's perception.

He wasn't compromising his good conscience, not in a million years, not after what he had been through, but being the aim of mockery for two months, was unacceptable. So Harry straightened his posture, grinned in a very uncharacteristic way and tucked a strand of hair behind his ear.

Harry wasn't a hundred percent sure, but he thought, for a split second that he saw that cocky smile of Malfoy falter. Pleased with this result, Harry found his seat next to Ron, and sat down, finally registering what was happening around him again.

"Potter, you self satisfied little brat, I'm taking 10 points from Gryffindor for not answering me and another 5 for smiling in such a retarded way!" Snape hissed, and continued with his class.

But Harry was still not paying attention. Something else was rather a lot more interesting. _Malfoy, by now,_ Harry silently contemplated, _is probably up-to-date with the arrangements as well. Ha! Look at him, throwing disdainful looks at me every other minute. He's probably pissed that I don't cower at the prospect of... _

But his thoughts got interrupted, as Malfoy pointedly stared at Harry while he picked up his quill, wrote out a message, and whispered a charm. Harry couldn't look away, and only when Malfoy ticked his index fingerto his forehead in quite the rude gesture, that Harry realized that the note now lay on his desk, with Ron at the ready tosnatch it up.

Briefly, Harry panicked and tried to smack Ron's hand away. Finally grabbing hold of the note while Ron's eyebrows kept lowering in an angry scowl, Harry quickly unfolded it.

_What's with the makeover, Potter? Wanted to look good for our little stake-out? Potter, you never cease to disgust me._

Harry glared at Malfoy, while he shoved the note into his pocket, but the fact that he was pleased with the accomplishment of the day, remained, and somehow Harry was convinced that it would be at least a bit harder now, for Malfoy to make him feel inferior.

"Harry! What in bloody hell's name are you hiding from me?" Ron hissed, while he started grabbing at Harry's pocket.

Harry suddenly started giggling, in a very girly way.

"Potter." Snape sneered. "Why are you giggling like a girl?"

Harry, with renewed confidence, replied. "I'm ticklish, sir."

"Thank you for that information Potter, I've been dying to know something personal about you, and the fact that your ticklish will obviously be very useful. Now get out, and gigglelike a girlsomewhere else." Snape replied, sarcastically.

Harry left, grin firmly intact, heading back to his dorm to finish packing in peace. Tomorrow would most definitely be an eventful.

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**Thanks for reading! Please review! And while you're at it, I'll give you something to keep you busy, a quiz of some sort.**

**Who invented the nickname 'long-haired pillock' for which Weasley?**


	4. The Boy Who Wore Gucci

**Title: How his Rubber Ducky told the truth.**

**By Indestructible.**

**Summary: With Lucius as their mutual arch-enemy, how will Harry react to having to go into hiding with Draco Malfoy? Slash H/D.**

**Warnings: Slash. Male/male relationships. Don't like, sod off.**

**Disclaimer: All credit for characters to JK Rowling, obviously.**

**This story is updated every 2 weeks, or more often.**

**Chapter 4 now up and running! Hope you like it! This one's dedicated to my lovely reviewers, who make me want to explain this written madness!**

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Chapter Four: The Boy Who Wore Gucci 

The sound of snoring and heavy breathing filled Harry's ears as he tried to focus on what was about to happen. A cold breeze caressed his cheek, making him shiver just slightly. Goose bumps rose on his skin, but wether they were caused by the chill of the wind or his nervousness, Harry didn't know.

He glanced down at his watch, illuminated by moonlight. It was 3 o'clock in the morning, and in half an hour Harry was expected to be at McGonnagal's office, ready be flooed out of Hogwart's.

Harry turned around, taking his elbows off of the windowsil, and grabbed his bags. If someone had told him a few weeks ago what he would be facing today, he sure as hell wouldn't have thought that he would be standing there, so sanely cool.

He probably would've thought that he would be 1) extremely pissed 2) bolting from that place as soon as he'd arrived 3) hexing Malfoy in oblivion while doing the latter and 4) nowhere near ready to do all the above. But he was neither of those. He stood there, facing the dorms, bags in both hands, in his faded jeans, black button-up shirt, _Collar up, duh!_ he added in thought, before shaking himself, raising an eyebrow at the gay-ness of that remark. But he was completely cool.

Why was that? The explanation was simple. Why Harry had never seen that solution, was a riddle to even himself. Malfoy irritated him to no end. Why? Because he always made Harry feel inferior. What to do to make having to spend 2 months with him more beareble? Make sure that there was no way to feel inferior! How? Be like him! Sit like him, dress like him, walk, talk and act like him. So that was why, he, Harry Potter, The Boy Who Lived, was now The Boy Who Wore Gucci.

With a few quick, but silent strides Harry was out of his dorms, down the stairs, through the portrait hole and out in the corridors. This was it. This was the moment. The moment he'd subconsciously been waiting for all his life. The moment to show Malfoy that he was no better then himself.

_It's kind of _weird, Harry mused suddenly, _That the real reason I'm doing this hasn't even crossed my mind twice since I heard about it._

The door to McGonnagal's office creaked open slowly, and in marched Harry, Gucci shoes clicking on the stone floor. But as his eyes, again, met with steely grey ones, his confidence faltered for a moment or two. Malfoy, himself, actually looked quite nervous, which threw Harry's plan slightly off, obviously.

"Ah, mister Potter, nicely on time, I see. I hope you are both ready?" Harry and Malfoy nodded, both clutching their baggage. "Any questions left?" Proffessor McGonnagal asked, a concerned look on her face.

"No, Professor, it's all quite clear to me." Malfoy sneered, his nervousness vanished as he glared dangerously at Harry. Harry simply smiled back, charmingly, which only seemed to enrage the blonde even more, to Harry's amusement.

Slightly scared, and (to be honest with himself) slightly disgusted as the ashes touched his brand new shoes, Harry stepped in, and waited for the Slytherin to follow. The room fell silent, none of them knowing what to say. But just before the situation got too awkward, the Headmistress spoke up again.

"Now, Mister Potter, Mister Malfoy, before you depart, I have to remind you that you're residing in the Hide-Out for your own safety. If our spells detect any physical hostility, and that includes between the two of you, measures will be taken. Surely you both understand that something as trivial as a juvenile conflict isn't worth getting the aurors over for. So please, be nice." She paused, a small sigh escaping from her eternally pursed lips. "Now off you go."

She took a pinch of floo powder, and before either of them could object, she'd thrown it in the flames.

"Hide-Out!"

For a second, everything was blurry, and Harry was completely clueless where they were heading. Several indistinguishable fireplaces flew past, until finally he tumbled out, landing softly on a warm and cushy surface.

"Potter!" the surface shouted, coughing. "Get your fat Gryffindor arse off of me!"

Harry, coughing as well, scrambled up, mumbling an embarressed appology in between dusr filled coughs while he tried to wipe off his carefully selected outfit.

Just then, he finally looked around, and apparently Malfoy had as well, because from the floor near his right, Harry heard a sharp intake of breath. A warm, luscious living room greeted them with warm colors, and many flickering lights. A large white couch stood in the middle of the room, and in the back were two archways, one leading to a big bedroom, the other to a small hallway.

"With a few adjustments, this place could be somewhat bearable." Malfoy remarked, close to his left, making Harry look around.

"With you in it?" He snapped, mentally smacking himself for falling back on old habits, but caught himself by adding one last statement.

"Perhaps."

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**Well, dears, I hope you liked it! The answer to last Chapter's question was: Rita Skeeter, Bill Weasley.**

**Next question:**

**Ron called someone "pea-brain" once. Who was it, and when did it happen?**


	5. Sharing A Bedroom With A Saint Bernard

**Title: How his Rubber Ducky told the truth.**

**By Indestructible.**

**Summary: With Lucius as their mutual arch-enemy, how will Harry react to having to go into hiding with Draco Malfoy? Slash H/D.**

**Warnings: Slash. Male/male relationships. Don't like, sod off.**

**Disclaimer: All credit for characters to JK Rowling, obviously.**

**This story is updated every 2 weeks, or more often.**

**Since this isn't getting too many reviews, I'm not a hundred percent sure on if I should continue or not. So don't forget to tell me if I should stop this fic or continue!**

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Chapter Five: Sharing A Bedroom With A Saint Bernard 

Harry took a few tentative steps forward, letting his eyes glide slowly over every single detail in the room. The large white couch with many black and red pillows scattered across it, the many bookcases filled to the brim with thick novels, the warm, bright red colored carpet, the huge fireplace and mostly, the lack of a television. Bit of a downer if you asked Harry, but besides that, the room looked more then fine.

Draco passed him, pulling Harry's attention away from the room for a second, before he actually took note of where the young Slytherin was going. Harry followed through the archway on the left, which seemed to lead to a big bedroom. Scary thing was though, it was only one room, with two beds.

"Eh... one room, two beds?" Harry mumbled, inadequately, not fully prepared to sleep in the same room with his former worst enemy for two months.

"Oh very clever Potter. Tell me, have you considered suing your brains, for non-support?" Malfoy sneered.

"That's a good one, Malfoy, you should call and tell all your friends. Here's 20 cents, bring back the change, would you?" Harry snapped back.

"Ha.. ha... Potter. You should toss out more of those funny remarks, that's all their good for anyway!"

"Keep talking, Malfoy, someday, you might say something intelligent!" Harry retorted.

"Is your name Laryngitis? 'Cause you're a pain in the effing neck!"

"Yeah? Well! Your momma is so..." Harry started, anger boiling up inside of him, but this time, he decided, he would be the bigger man. "Look Malfoy, I got your point, let's just see the rest of this place, okay?" Harry finally sighed, getting tired already with the insult exchange.

"Fine." Malfoy huffed back, marching past Harry, leaving behind the big white bedroom, with the two king-sized beds, covered in black satin, to enter the other archway.

There was a small kitchen filled with everything they might need, a large bathroom and a walk-in closet. Besides that, there was nothing. No front door, no hallway, not even any windows.

"Guess we're underground, then." Malfoy noted, and Harry had to bite his tongue to make sure he wouldn't throw around another insult. At that, Malfoy actually seemed shocked for a second, before he smirked. Almost.. seductively.

Harry swallowed hard, before he sat down on the white couch. Mind, you, in the perfect position. One arm was draped on the armrest, legs folded in a casual way, with his back still straight. Malfoy quirked a brow at that but sat down nonetheless. That is, in the far corner, as far away from Harry as he could.

"You do know why we are here, right Potter?" Malfoy asked, curiously.

Harry sneered.

"Yes, I do, I'm not as stupid as you think I am."

Harry grinned.

"Oh Harry, love, I don't think you're stupid." Malfoy replied, one corner of his mouth twitching upwards.

Harry gulped.

"But hey, what's my opinion against thousands of others?"

Harry glared.

Harry knew full well why they were there, stuck together in this effing basement for two months, and he still didn't understand why. So what if Malfoy's stupid father was the strongest death eater left and out to get him, and for some reason, his son? He had defeated the bloody Dark Lord! Why cower when he was being followed around by a lousy little spy like Lucius?

But thinking for long was quite impossible with an attention-addicted blonde on the very same couch, who had seemed to start a staring contest.

"What're you looking at?" Harry enquired, a little harsher then intended.

"I was just noting that you have the face of a Saint, dear Potter." Harry smiled in appreciation, trying to ease down his heartbeat as he swallowed, once, twice. Maybe this little trip could get interesting after all...

"A Saint Bernard, that is."

Or maybe not...

And as Malfoy nearly rolled of the couch laughing, Harry made his way to the bedroom to unpack with that one last thought in his head.

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So please review! Tell me what you think about the whole should or shouldn't I stop this fic thing! **


	6. Lack Of Inspiration & Loosing Composure

**Title: How his Rubber Ducky told the truth.**

**By Indestructible.**

**Summary: With Lucius as their mutual arch-enemy, how will Harry react to having to go into hiding with Draco Malfoy? Slash H/D.**

**Warnings: Slash. Male/male relationships. Don't like, sod off.**

**Disclaimer: All credit for characters to JK Rowling, obviously.**

**This story is updated every two weeks, as long as you review.**

**Thanks to the wonderful people that reviewed, I decided to continue. But let me warn you, if it doesn't keep up, I don't know if I can find the time to write this.**

**I wrote you guys a longer chapter to make up for lost time. **

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Chapter Six: Lack Of Inspiration And Loosing Composure

His fingers wound themselves a little too tightly around the handle of his travel-bag. However, Harry couldn't really care that his knuckles were turning white and his hand was shaking angrily. With each violent stomp of his feet while he maneuvered himself to the bedroom, fractions of a thought ran through his mind.

This. Stomp. Is. Stomp. Not. Stomp. According. Stomp. To. Stomp. Plan. Stomp.

And this thought, even though it took a while to complete, was as true as the pain in his knuckles. He had planned to be an equal to Malfoy thus giving him no ammunition to insult him, but the plan was failing miserably. Already, Malfoy seemed to have the upper hand, and because of this, Harry was _not amused_.

Inhaling sharply through his nose, which made his nostrils flare a little, he forced himself to calm down, if this was ever going to succeed, he definitely needed to keep a cool head. He wanted so badly to hex Malfoy just for the sheer joy of it, but knew damn well that this would be impossible. One sign of hostile spell work and aurors would be all over the place, reprimanding Harry for his lack of self-control. And if there was anything (besides Malfoy's insults) that he wasn't in the mood for, it was reprimanding aurors.

And so, Harry just repeated the same mantra in his head while breathing in and out deeply.

_Must be like Malfoy, sit like Mafloy, dress like Malfoy, walk like Malfoy, talk like Malfoy, act like Malfoy, ooze confidence like Malfoy, have the really sexy smirk like Malfoy, be disgustingly attractive like Malfoy..._

He shook his head violently. What had he just thought?

He paused and took a deep breath and desperately tried to clear his head. But it was no use, he couldn't possibly deny what thoughts had just ran through his mind and he needed to sort them out. What was this? Was it some kind of trick his mind was playing on him? Had Malfoy found a way to put a spell on him despite the tricky protective magic on the Hide-Out? Was he, Harry swallowed, actually attracted to Malfoy in some weird way? Or was it just a simple reverie of the calm, controlled, filled to the brim with self-esteem personality that Malfoy carried around, as opposed to his own insecurities.

Harry sighed. That sounded logical, thank Merlin for that. His heartbeat eased a bit and Harry managed to release his bag from his clutching fingers and let it fall onto the big bed on the left side of the room. The travelling bag made a dint in the soft satin black sheets, while Harry finally took a good look around the room. The walls were painted white, a pure white that almost hurt your eyes when you looked at it for too long. The ceiling however, was decorated with a black pattern of loops and swirls that made a lovely contrast against the neutral-ness of the rest of the room. There were, if you looked closely, some color-accents, and to Harry's great dismal the only color in the room was a poisonously bright green.

Two large and highly polished black closets rose high against the back wall, one for Harry and one for Malfoy. Even their first names, he noticed, were curvily written in green across these closets. Marching over to his own, he decided it was about time he'd unpack, and so he threw open the closet-doors.

Fifteen minutes later, almost all of his brand new and fashionably sexy clothes were installed into the closet and Harry started to calm down and actually appreciate the current situation. A bit of a break from school was never a prospect that got him depressed, and this hide-out was an absolutely charming holiday venue. He smiled as he folded a dark pair of jeans. As long as he and Malfoy weren't killing one another, this could actually turn out just fine.

But then, as suddenly as Harry had found himself content, his luck changed and a familiar drawl came from behind him.

" I see you've finally discarded those rags you called clothes, Potter."

Harry sighed and slowly turned around. He could see where this was going already, and he wasn't in the mood for a round two of their insult-battle. He managed a faint smile and tried another approach.

"Yes, yes I have. I was sick and tired of walking around in my cousin's hand-me-down's so I decided it was about time to do some shopping of my own."

For a moment, Malfoy looked taken aback that no snappy comment was thrown his way, but as Malfoy's do best, he quickly regained composure. Harry watched as the blond carried his own suitcase over to the other closet and calmly started to unpack. His suitcase, Harry noticed, was a lot bigger than Harry's. The sound of a zipper being opened broke the silence, and Harry watched, almost in trance, the folded jeans still in his arms, as his enemy took out pairs of pants, neatly ironed shirts and about a million pairs of shoes and placed them in his closet. After, off course, having magically enlarged the thing.

"I don't know why you're so obsessively watching me unpack, scarface, but stop it. It's annoying the hell out of me."

Harry swallowed hard, his Adam's apple moving up and down quickly, before he averted his eyes to a blank spot on the wall. He tried to calm his breathing as much as he could, but that was tougher than it seemed.

He had never been able to explain why Malfoy effected him so much, but this flaw was as real as McGonagall's wrinkels. He just couldn't help it, and that feeling of helplessness managed to piss him off every single time. So there he was, pissed off and facing the source of all the misery he felt at that moment.

"Shut up Malfoy, I'm not obsessed." He managed to say finally, his voice small and a little quaky.

Suddenly, Malfoy looked up, his concentration broken by Harry's quip, wich was at least three minutes late according to the rule book of comebacks.

"Oh really?" The blonde answered, his voice low and soothing, while he dropped the neatly ironed shirt he was holding onto the bed.

Harry nodded, almost frantically convincing himself as well as his opponent that he really wasn't obsessed, but already his heartbeat was increasing speed.

"Then why," He stepped closer to Harry, and Harry felt his mouth go dry. "did you take an hour to come up with that lack-of-inspiration-comment?"

Draco took another step closer to Harry, and the sound of his shoes on the wooden floors seemed to echo endlessly in Harry mind, but the volume of it was not comparable to his thundering heartbeat.

"And why," The Slytherin's voice was so low and seductive as he stepped in Harry's personal space now, that Harry felt his knees go week, and for a moment, he caught himself slightly swaying, feeling drugged with this proximity to the blond. He cursed himself inwardly for letting this get to him so easily, but he couldn't stop it now. "are your hands trembling, and.."

Harry saw Malfoy's hand lift, but didn't register what was about to happen until he went shaky under the touch of one long, feminine finger dragging across his fore-head. Harry closed his eyes, a sigh escaping his lips before he could comprehend it.

"why are you sweating?" The words were directly aimed at Harry's pouting lips, he was certain. The blond's breath, smelling distinctly like mint ghosted over Harry's lips, and Harry couldn't take it anymore.

His heart felt like it was clenched inside his chest, and the constant drumming sound of its beat was starting to daze him. A fog was hanging in front of his eyes when he opened them, and the sudden loss of a visual gave him a little of his strength back. Not enough to stop his knees from being week though.

"Get away from me, Malfoy." He whispered shakily, and tripped twice over his own feet when he attempted to leave the room. When he threw one last look over his shoulder while entering the living-area he almost tripped again, for the blonde standing there, arms folded and one corner of his mouth turned upwards, suddenly seemed like the sexiest thing he ever saw.

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Also, If there are any Dutch readers, such as me, that found this fic; please visit my profile page and check out my own site. It's a Dutch role play based on writing-skills.**


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